


Say It

by verbose_vespertine



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Brainwashing, Gen, Torture, Vero'razimiri'vosis "Raz" (original character), intentionally causing pain to someone who didn't ask for it in a very not nice way anyway, probably more than canon-typical violence, tagging torture just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22533736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbose_vespertine/pseuds/verbose_vespertine
Summary: Vector hesitates, but he does as Raz tells him. When he is out of earshot, Raz smiles widely at Chance, with too many teeth. “‘I have the code, but I’m never going to use it.’ Isn’t that what you said to me? Go ahead, Chance, say it.”
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Say It

**Author's Note:**

> Look, one of my friends put the idea of my Imperial Agent with an asp into my head and I ran with it. Everyone gets hurt in this one.

“Legate, I have to be sure—code word onomatophobia. _You will come directly to my location_.”

Raz takes a steadying breath, her mind screaming _I said I would come!_ before her voice disobeys her and calmly responds, “I’ll be right there,” with an almost cheerful lilt that sickens her. As she shuts off the holocommunicator and stuffs it back into a pouch on her belt, Raz grits her teeth hard enough for it to hurt, and when she has stayed in her crouched position for a moment, she can feel a dull ache beginning behind her eyes. Unsure if the ache is from her clenched teeth or from contemplating disobeying the command, Raz stands and checks the coordinates Chance sent her.

At least the command doesn’t stop her from activating her stealth tech. She still clamps her mouth closed while creeping through swarms of rakghouls, hardly daring to breathe, and digs a hand into Vector’s arm to keep him close and quiet. The more reckless part of her considers lobbing a grenade into the middle of a snarling herd of plague-carrying beasts for the time it would waste, but her hands won't even twitch toward her belt. Raz isn’t sure if it is involuntary or not that she doesn’t do it.

It does not take Raz and Vector long to reach the coordinates Chance provided. Chance is propped against a stack of crates in the entryway of Dynamet General. At least the bastard had made himself easy to find. Raz walks as close to him as she dares before deactivating her stealth field, and he barely startles at her sudden appearance kneeling before him. Even though his command had not been to come to his location _and help him_ , Raz falls into her instincts as a medic and quickly begins to assess him. She can’t see all of Chance’s wounds, but there is a sizeable pool of blood spreading under him. Raz unbuttons Chance’s shirt, pulling the soaked fabric aside to seek out any hidden sources of bleeding while he rambles about the attack he survived and the mission he failed to complete.

“ _Shhh_ , let me _work_ , Chance.” Raz finds a deep puncture low on Chance’s abdomen, over his hip, and reaches into one of the pouches on the belt across her chest for a combination bacta-anesthetic pouch, ripping it open with her teeth.

“Legate. You have to help me. You _have_ to.” Chance’s voice changes, he suddenly seems to have clarity through the shock. “Code word ono—on—ono—“

Raz’s hand freezes over Chance’s wound and the pouch drops. Chance coughs, gasps, tries again to force the code word out of his uncooperative mouth.

“Agent?”

Raz had almost forgotten Vector behind her until she hears his quiet voice, the single word asking volumes. She rests a flat hand over the wound on Chance’s side.

“Vector,” Raz’s voice is soft, and she does not turn to look at him. “Step away.”

Vector hesitates, but he does as Raz tells him. When he is out of earshot, Raz smiles widely at Chance, with too many teeth. “Go ahead, Chance, _say it_.”

Chance opens and closes his mouth, forcing air out but unable to form the full word. Raz digs a finger into the puncture and twists, causing the wound to bleed freely. Chance turns in on himself, gagging against the pain.

“You can’t say it, can you?” Raz sneers and leans close enough that their foreheads nearly touch. “I was going to help you. I was _coming_. You _know_ that, right?”

“Code word ono...mato...phobia—“ With desperation in his eyes, Chance is able to get the activation phrase out.

She stands and unclips a short, leather-wrapped baton from her hip. With a quick flick of her wrist, the baton extends, the hard click echoing in the tiled space. Raz blinks slowly, and her upper lip twitches into a sneer again. “Goodbye, Chance.”

“No, _Legate, no, youhavetohelpme_!” The pitch of Chance’s voice rises with Raz’s arm on its swing.

Several paces down the hall, Vector jumps at the single wet crack of metal meeting flesh and bone. Swinging through the command not to, Raz’s own head splits open in blinding pain. From the force of the follow-through, Chance falls to the side, landing with an exhalation that empties his lungs. Raz follows him down, gripping her own temples, looking into Chance’s unfocused eyes and watching blood bloom from the side of his face, unsure of how long she stares but aware of his blood seeping toward her.

Then Vector is beside her, lifting her, reminding her that they still have work to do. They stand facing each other for a moment, gripping each other’s forearms for support, staring into each other’s eyes, black and red and bottomless. 

“Ready, Agent?” Vector asks after a moment, when Raz seems centered again. Pain still receding behind her eyes, Raz nods anyway, and they walk deeper into the facility to complete their work.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sometimes not sure if the class story is meaner to Raz or if I am.
> 
> (All characters in these works except OCs belong to EA/BioWare/the StarWars folks)


End file.
